


The Letters Karen Page Never Sent

by DustySoul



Series: The One(s) Where Karen Page is a Black Widow [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Black Widow Program, Episode: s03e11 Past and Present, F/F, Letters, The Red Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4069585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustySoul/pseuds/DustySoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eating them is more effective than burning them. It gets to the point that whenever Karen thinks about her, her mouth tastes like paper and ink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Letters Karen Page Never Sent

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Your authors knowledge of the Black Widow Program / The Red Room comes from reading fanfic and wikipedia.
> 
> Also, looking over the things I wanted to write for the daredevil kinkmeme, I see now that this fulfills this prompts  
> http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/725.html?thread=789461#cmt789461

I.

I think they made me hate you. Or wanted me to hate you. But then I remember, it just made the whole thing easier. To… to look at you and not see a person, to look at you and not really see anything at all. To look at you and just feel rage. And, knowing them, god forbid they ever make anything easy. 

Maybe it was just a glitch. Some unintended consequence of it all.

Anyway, I’m glad I’m free now. (Though, I’m not sure if I’m free from hating you. I think I could be, if I tried.)

(Did you do that? Because god, I don’t remember how I got here. I’m so scared one day I’m going to snap. That something deep down inside me is going to wake up and I’ll come to in a pool of someone else’s blood.)

 

II.

Well it happened, I jinxed myself.

(I don’t know how anyone believed my truth. The only evidence I had was that when I woke up I still felt like Karen Page. I don’t even know how meaningful that is. But besides,  his death wouldn’t have been advantageous to them. So it definitely was me. I mean, it wasn’t me but I was still me. You know what I mean. I must have been unconscious for all of it. I think the thought of strange and dangerous men moving my body around like that is supposed to be upsetting. It’s not. There are things that I’m upset about in this whole ordeal, memories I’d forgotten resurfacing. But the details like that… don’t bother me at all. And I really do think they’re supposed to.) 

I should have called you. I wouldn’t have gotten into trouble if I’d just called you. Or actually listened to my gut but… it was her voice telling me to keep it to myself. I still should have listened. God. It was so stupid. I was trained to be better than this.

And it’s not like I don’t know where you are - haven’t been keeping tabs.

(Do you do the same for me?)

But you know, when I said that… I was talking about bad men, the kind of men who live in the shadows I thought I’d escaped in this city… That’s what gets me. He was a _nice guy_. Not like me, not like you. Not like anyone I’ve ever really gotten to know. He had a wife. And I know it wouldn’t be hard to look her in the eyes, not like it should be.

 

III.

I haven’t been keeping up with my training at all. I thought it was the right thing to do but… I made so many mistakes, I think that might have been the first. I should have known my body would always be a weapon. Now I can barely use it to defend myself. I’m lucky he needed me alive. I am lucky he was stupid enough to put a loaded gun in the middle of the table.

I knew as soon as I picked it up. I’d forgotten about that, you know? Being able to tell how many bullets are in a clip just by the weight and feel.

 _I shot him_.

I hadn’t shot anyone since I woke up as Karen Page.

I wonder if maybe this was why they designed me in the first place. But my road to here… it’s been so sporadic. I’m what they call “unmanageable”, “uncontrollable”. That’s my only success so far.

I couldn’t even lead a _normal_ life. 

And I didn’t think I could do it drugged to the gills like that… it would have been enough to kill any other girl. Not shoot him, but kill him. Having good aim and holding on to my grip of being Karen Page… I thought she’d creep out. I think maybe she did for a bit, I don’t remember how I got rid of the gun. I think I drowned her out with booze. That could have ended _very_ badly.

And I think maybe I’ll send you this letter because I’m drunk and desperate enough to do it. But I got a life here. I got to remember that.

 

IV.

I saw you on the news. Well, I saw the crowd you run with on the news. Iron Man and whatever they call the big green monster. Hulk? Breaking a city in a third world country… seems like your life’s not going how you expected to it either.

(I’m sorry. And I don’t think I hate you anymore.)

 

V.

Congratulations! You just saved the world. Mine just fell apart. ~~We should celebrate~~. ~~We should fuck~~. We should go out for drinks. The guys I work with, they showed me this shit-hole bar. You’d like it. ~~The y~~ ~~have good vodka. Not as good as the shit holes in Russia~~ …

 

VI.

Do you ever wonder how boys like that can stand to be around girls like us? I mean less Iron Man, more Captain America. Like… I worry if they stand too close some evil part of me will rub off on them. And then there’s the part where I can’t stop wondering what they’d think if they knew… It’s so macabre. ‘Cause I can’t stop thinking that that would be the death of me, if they found out who I was then… I’d have to uproot, make a whole new identity, slip into a new country. And that would be the end of Karen Page.

And that would just be a shame. I couldn’t live in the same city as you.

~~Not like that matters, though. Since I never see you and don’t have the guts to send any of my letters. I don’t know what the fuck I’m so scared of. It’s not like you’d care either way, it’s not like I mean anything to you.~~

 

VII.

I’ve gotten myself into serious shit. I don’t even know how I managed it. I guess sometimes the civilians do just get pulled into the thick of it. I’m starting to worry that the only way out is to disappear. And I can’t do that… These two boys, they’re not getting along right now and if I vanished…

They love me. I… I shouldn’t have said that… It’s not like it matters. It’s not like I haven’t cut the heart strings of a dozen men who loved me it’s just… These are good men. They have been dragged in to this by their virtue.

And I can’t let them go to another funeral… not so soon after the last one.

(And if I just up and disappeared, they would you know, have a funeral. Though not until they did their best to search the earth for me. They don’t know any better, know that trying would be futile.)

 

VIII.

Sometimes I think I should just… run into you in the city. Ask you out for drinks. Though it’s not like you wouldn’t know it’s me. Still… there’s this really nice Italian place where you can eat up on the roof, under the stars.

 

IX.

Do you even know if I’m still alive? Do you care?

 

X.

A bad man fell today. I liked the part I played. I didn’t have to use guns or my pepper spray except for those times no one else was playing fair. I wasn’t the one to take him down. I wasn’t even the only one who built the net.

And my boys are getting along again.

We should definitely celebrate. 

 

-

 

Karen rummages for her keys, heart racing, ears pricked. _It means nothing it means nothing it means nothing_. It’s an easy, familiar alertness flowing through her veins that scares her more than shadows and her blind spots. She wonders if she’ll ever be able to open her door again without this awareness of the blood on her hands.

Once she’s gotten the door open, she knows somebody’s already inside.

It interrupts her mantra, her pushing at herself. Cautiously she pads into her living room, holding desperately onto her presence least she slide into her past.

“Natasha.”

“Karen.”

“How did you…?” Karen just lets the sentence trail off. It’s a stupid question. She was trained better than this. She tries not to care.

Natasha’s curled up into the sofa in her ridiculous cat suit. It’s probably what she wears to remind herself she’s not a spy anymore. (She's a superhero now. That's...) Since she can’t wear the logo that reminds her that she’s on the right side. There’s just judgement in her eyes, like maybe she understands. She doesn’t so much as twitch as Karen moves about the room, putting her keys in the ceramic bowl on the mantel, putting her papers on her desk. Once she’s done with that, put away all the odd and ends of Karen’s life she turns back to the assassin and says, “Why are you here?”

“My world fell apart. And I’m on leave.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. These people think everyone needs a vacation after saving the day.” 

Karen smiles. She moves to sit in the arm chair across from Natasha, brushes her hair out of her face. “What happened?”

“Oh…”

“Do you need booze?”

Natasha smiles, “No.” It disappears off her mouth as she takes a deep breath. “A weakness of mine… disappeared. And I miss him, terribly.”

“Sucks.”

“Yeah. I don’t know if he’ll ever come back. I don’t know why he…”

“Yeah.”

“And what about you? How did you get wrapped up in all this?”

Karen starts in on her story. And they get wrapped up in each other's words.

 

_Natasha did help her, helped all the girls she could find and fit into their new lives._

“You don’t remember it?”

“No, none of it.”

“Shame.”

_She’s been keeping track of Karen (and the others) as much as Karen had been keeping track of her._

When this comes out Karen has to remind herself who’s couch Natasha has sunken into, even if it’s just for the night.

_And she cares. And she never hated her. And she spends a great deal of the night, once they were done talking, proving it to Karen._

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to message or follow me on tumblr at dusty-soul.tumblr.com


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